Life in a Dreaming Trio
by Nightengale
Summary: Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur; the architect, the forger and the point man; the brand new, or really not so new, top of the extraction ladder, stealing your secrets and delivering your dreams.  Sequel to my "Extraction by Three"  Arthur/Eames-not the focus


Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur; the architect, the forger and the point man; the brand new, or really not so new, top of the extraction ladder, stealing your secrets and delivering your dreams.

"No Dominic Cobb in our way for the ascent!" Eames says.

Somehow the three of them became the most highly sought after, most frequently shot at, and most skilled extraction team in the business. It certainly pays well as Eames is quick to remind them when they run through dream streets and fall off dream roofs and shoot dream people. Their list of accolades has grown and everyone in the dream business knows their names.

However, Ariadne could have down without the shoulder wound.

"I was shot in reality, damn it!"

Arthur just holds up his hands in defense while Eames pets her hair. "Darling, has to happen to everyone."

"Shot!" she exclaims, throwing off Eames' hand and pointing at the sling on her arm. "Fucking shot!"

"You've been shot before!" Arthur insists.

"In a dream!"

Eames points between the three of them. "We've all been shot."

Ariadne kicks the PASIV and it almost falls off the chair.

"Are the pain drugs making her crazy?" Arthur hisses at Eames under his breath.

"It's not a requirement of life to be shot." Ariadne paces. "It's not on my list of 'life things to do.' Get my degree, build the next Louvre, get shot - not necessary!"

Eames purses his lips. "If it was on your list you could cross it off now."

Ariadne makes a loud, angry noise and kicks the chair all the way over, PASIV toppling to the floor. Arthur glares and kneels down to inspect the case. Ariadne points a finger at Eames then turns away.

"Where is my gun?" She stalks out of the room. "Misery loves company, Eames!"

Arthur stares up at Eames. "Are you an idiot?"

* * *

"Isn't quite taking this well, is she?"

Ariadne stands with her back to the San Domenico, wide brimmed red hat tilted back on her head and the city roofs of Siena spread out below. Arthur crouches down by the pavement, back to a metal post, a few feet away with camera in hand. Ariadne smiles and slides to the right when Arthur waves her over.

"Obtenez-le tout!"

"Oui," Arthur replies, clicking the button.

Ariadne smiles and speaks low through her teeth. "We'll need the inside too."

Arthur smiles back motioning her to the other side. "The entrance on your left is where she'd go in. Around the back and it leads to some class rooms."

"She only takes one over here, right?"

"Oui," Arthur replies louder as some people walk by behind him.

Ariadne skips back over to Arthur then turns around to face the church once she is at Arthur's side. He stands up and pretends to show her the pictures.

"The main school is in the center over looking the Piazza."

Ariadne kisses Arthur's cheek then loops her arm through his. "Perfect. I would love to build the Piazza del Campo." She makes a kissing noise. "Belissima."

"Aren't we supposed to be French?"

She just smiles.

The two cross the street then walk down the hill toward the city center. They turn to the right and take a short cut down steep steps until the street changes to gray cobblestone. These back streets have less people and the two extractors pick up the pace, less act to keep up. They pass a plain yellow building, closed shutters to their left and an old iron fence to their right. The road narrows slightly as they go on, curving steeply up and down, the buildings turning into more generic red brick and tan stone.

Suddenly Arthur's phone beeps.

"Bonjour?"

"How is the school stalking going?" Eames asks. "Enjoying the French tourist bit?"

"Oui, c'est bein."

"I'm not sure that was the correct sentence construction."

Ariadne laughs next to Arthur, hearing Eames' words. Arthur just rolls his eyes and switches to English.

"We took shots of the church, passing by the main school soon, and Ariadne is tearing my French to shreds."

"Helps to be fluent I suppose."

"Oui, oui," Ariadne says, tipping the mouth piece of the phone toward herself, "école le ferai."

Eames chuckles. "I'm sure."

Arthur and Ariadne reach the top of the hill and turn to their left, the road widening some and people reappearing around them as they near the piazza. They walk by more classic European buildings with beautiful stone fronts as well as some more modern clothing stores. They slow down past a building with large black doors, giant metal hooks in the centers. Ariadne makes an excited noise.

"Prends ma photo!"

"What?" Eames answers.

"Une minute," Arthur says into the phone then raises the camera as Ariadne poses in front of the doors.

Though the building doesn't look it, it is in fact a school with a college program; the study abroad program which their possible mark attends.

Arthur glances up at the windows of the building. Most are closed with shutters, not too helpful for them. One of the main doors has a smaller door built into it which actually opens as opposed to the façade of the larger ones. He clicks the camera a few times, tilting the shutter upward surreptitiously to get shots higher up.

"Bien," he says and smiles.

Ariadne slides back over to him, her eyes coasting across the surrounding buildings, architecture cataloging through her brain.

"Back," Arthur says, putting the phone back to his ear. "How is our man's daughter?"

"Still faux sunbathing in the piazza - starting to get some clouds though, oh dear - with her charming boyfriend."

"The Albanian one?"

Eames makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "She's told our boy about the Florentine, plans to break up with him. Whether or not she will for real, who knows? I doubt it. Better to have two boys than one, eh?"

"You'd better not think so."

Eames laughs mischievously.

Ariadne snaps her fingers at Arthur. "Viens!"

"See you soon," Arthur says and clicks the phone off.

Ariadne tugs Arthur on until they turn to their right down an arched pathway leading out into the Piazza del Campo, open sky above them and tourists everywhere snapping photos of the Torre del Mangia. They see their mark, one Danielle Roberts, sitting on the edge of the shell-shaped piazza where the stone on the ground turns tan. She laughs and kisses the man next to her, hands gesticulating in front of her.

Ariadne makes a condescending noise. "Art students, so fake."

"Architecture students are the real art students?"

Ariadne raises an eyebrow at him. "Architecture students who spend their whole time in Paris as opposed to one semester abroad to show off are clearly the real art students."

Arthur tuts at her. "Such hostility."

Ariadne smacks his arm then slants her head slightly to the left. At the far edge of the piazza they can see Eames sitting in a chair outside of a café, newspaper in his hand. The two amble leisurely down the stone, passing by restaurants until they 'happen' to choose the café at the edge of the piazza. They weave through the tables and sit down at a table a bit behind Eames. Eames has an espresso and a pad of paper on the table beside him, both obscured to the piazza by his newspaper. Eames jots down something on the pad then pulls his cell phone from his pocket as it buzzes.

"Ciao."

"Ready to forge the boyfriend?" Arthur asks.

They see Eames glance to the left and smile for them.

"Quite a challenge to get the accent right," Eames says with evident sarcasm, "though I am sure our little Danielle can teach me a thing or two with her own talented tongue."

Ariadne snorts and takes the phone from Arthur before he can retaliate. "Vous êtes fou."

"Must you keep showing off with your French?"

"You are crazy," she repeats. "And you know that Arthur can reach you from here."

"Oh, I am well aware."

A waiter comes up to the table and Ariadne orders the two of them cappuccinos.

Arthur takes the phone back once the waiter leaves. "So, we've got some pictures to start with. Ariadne has an idea for the dreamscape. How's it looking on her? I know you're excited about this boyfriend forge."

Eames only laughs and lays his hand on the table beside him, drumming his fingers once at them.

Ariadne takes the phone again. "She looks perfect to me and Arthur's research did say she was very close to her father. She's sure to have the information and access we need."

Eames closes his phone, picking up his espresso and drinking the rest.

"Done," he says without turning around.

Suddenly a crack of thunder breaks through the calm atmosphere of the day. They all look up and see the once peaceful, if cloudy, sky of a few minutes ago turning dark and gray. Their cappuccinos arrive and in front of them Eames puts his notebook back into the leather bag by his feet. He closes his newspaper, stands up, and then the rain pours down. Eames jumps around tables and under the awning where Ariadne and Arthur are sitting, splashing them as well as a few others with water.

"Shit…" he mutters, looking down at himself.

They see people running out of the pizza into the covered side streets and restaurants. Danielle and her boyfriend scamper off to the right into the alleyway Ariadne and Arthur entered through. Eames looks side long at the two of them and flicks Ariadne with water. Suddenly she stands up and grabs Arthur's hand.

"What? No!" He cries but she pulls him out into the rain.

Laughing and running with a hand on her hat, Ariadne drags Arthur out into the center of the down pour, twirling them around. Arthur glares for a moment but he's already soaked and gives up. Arthur wraps his arm around Ariadne's waist and spins them about in a clumsy waltz. Ariadne smiles and waves a beckoning hand at Eames. He crosses his arms and shakes his head from under the safety of the awning.

"Venez ici! Venez ici!" Ariadne shouts as they dance.

Eames shakes his head again. Ariadne breaks free of Arthur and runs back toward Eames. Most of the people in the piazza are scattered into buildings, inside restaurants, only a brave few still outside at all. She runs up and grasps Eames' hand.

"No," Eames says, trying to plant his feet. "I don't think so."

"You're already a bit wet."

"Exactly, a bit."

She tugs and he stumbles and they're both out in the rain again. Eames groans but lets her pull him along back to Arthur in the middle. Eames drops his bag as they reach the other man and Ariadne begins waltzing with Arthur again. Eames crosses his arms, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. Arthur laughs at him.

"I thought I was supposed to be the 'stick in the mud,' Eames," Arthur chides. "Now who's afraid of a little rain?"

Eames huffs and points down. "The bag is leather, you know."

Ariadne slips out of Arthur's arms and puts herself into Eames', taking the lead and pulling him along. Eames trips in surprise but regroups following her easily.

"The woman can lead a waltz," he says with a smile.

"The woman can do a lot of things."

Arthur claps. "Don't we know it."

Eames and Ariadne look at Arthur then at the same time they reach out and grab Arthur's hand, pulling him between them. Eames wraps his arms around Arthur from the front and Ariadne snuggles up against his back, her hat falling off into a puddle.

Eames gives Arthur a discrete kiss, though their cover is certainly gone by now. Arthur smiles and takes Eames hand and Ariadne puts a hand on Eames' other arm around Arthur. Arthur turns and they follow, leading them through a strange sort of trio waltz. Together they sway and turn, twist and dance as the rain soaks them through with smiles on their faces.

* * *

Smoke fills the bar so everything seems to be moving slowly, tantalizing, slipping in and out of clouds. Indian music plays softly and a few people sway together in the spaces between the sparse tables. Arthur sits at the bar while Eames in a tight black dress talks to their mark. They are clearly having a fight, all according to plan.

"Ready to go?" Ariadne asks from behind Arthur though she isn't facing him.

"Almost." Arthur picks up his drink as he speaks, keeping the glass in front of his face. "Eames needs to storm away on his high heels."

"Flipping some black hair?"

Arthur takes a drink. "He's a little too good at that part."

Something makes a crashing noise and then a short dark-skinned woman in a black dress stalks by them, not even a glance in their direction. Eames is all business tonight. They see him grab his red coat from the coat check then slam the door on his way out.

"He will be sorry to miss the show," Ariadne says as she slowly curls around Arthur toward their mark sulking in the corner. "Remember, the safe is by the back exit."

"Go inspire those security codes."

Ariadne just sways her hips in response, blue silk hugging her body and showing her shoulders, then she sits down at the table next to their mark's.

Arthur smiles and slides a hand down to the gun concealed at his hip, quick reassurance though it's unnecessary thus far. It feels quite nice to have a mark without shooting projections for once. Everyone seems to be militarized and trained lately or perhaps they've just been working on a lot of big fish. A smoky bar is as close to relaxing as Arthur thinks they'll find in dreams these days.

Suddenly, he hears the chair behind him at the bar scrape on the floor and someone sits down.

"Did I miss anything?"

Arthur leans back slightly so his arm brushes against Eames then he waves a hand at the bar tender.

"Not yet."

The bar tender comes over and Arthur gets a beer for the both of them, cold in nondescript brown bottles. The labels weren't really on Arthur's list of dream necessities. They both grab their beers and drink at the same time.

"If he doesn't dance with that minx," Eames says, "I'll go over there for him."

Arthur snorts. "I'll tell Ariadne you said so."

Eames laughs and Arthur can hear his lighter click. "I told her that dress was the better choice, such cling."

"I'm going to hit you."

"You mean, 'hit that.'"

Arthur punches Eames hard in the knee without turning around. Eames groans quietly and picks up his beer again.

"Spoil sport."

At the table Ariadne slowly switches the cross of her legs and glances at their mark. They see their mark look away, clearly trying to be cool then he turns back to see if Ariadne is still looking.

"God, this game gets old." Eames taps the back of Arthur's chair with his beer bottle. "And he really had no conversation for his girlfriend; Ariadne is going to be disappointed. Didn't even have to work hard to start a fight."

Arthur rolls his eyes and pretends to watch a group of girls in the corner while really keeping his eye on Ariadne. He sees their mark stand up and go to Ariadne's table. They speak for a moment then Ariadne stands up and trials a hand down the man's arm. The two walk over to the open area in the middle of the tables which seems to be the dance floor. Behind Arthur, Eames sighs heavily.

"I'm leaving you for Ariadne."

"No, you're not."

Eames leans closer so his breath tickles the back of Arthur's neck. "Why not?"

"Because I'm getting her first."

Eames chuckles.

"You think I'm kidding?"

Eames kisses Arthur's neck then Arthur can feel him lean away again. "She'd shoot us both if we tried."

As Ariadne curls her hand around the back of their mark's neck, lips close to his ear and a wicked smile on her face, Arthur nods to Eames with absolute certainty.

"I suppose I'll have to settle for you then."

Eames laughs.

Ariadne bangs on the hotel room door then doesn't bother waiting for a reply before using the key Arthur gave her and flinging open the door. Arthur is already sitting up in bed with his gun half way up as Ariadne slams the door behind her.

"What the –"

"Shut up," She snaps and grabs Arthur's carefully folded pile of clothing on the desk, throwing it at him, "we have to leave, now."

Arthur catches most of the clothing, his vest falling onto Eames' head instead. Eames rolls over and swats the vest off of him.

Arthur pulls a white shirt over his head. "What is it?"

"Just hurry up," she barks.

Ariadne picks up what are clearly Eames' clothes on the floor and drops them on top of the still recumbent man. She shakes him hard as she does so.

"Damn, insolent child," Eames mutters and aims an elbow at her which misses. He then rolls over again to curl himself around Arthur's waist beside him.

"Get up!" she snaps urgently at Eames then turns to Arthur. "It's Praxle Crops' men. They're in the lobby."

Eames jolts up and both men jump to their feet, throwing clothing on. Ariadne hauls the PASIV device off of a chair and tosses Arthur's bag with all their surveillance, files, and extraction results inside over her shoulder across her chest.

"Tipped off?" Arthur asks, not bothering to button his vest, and stuffs his tie into his coat pocket as he pulls it on.

"The extraction was clean." Eames bounces once as he shoves his foot into a shoe. "They can't know."

"Well, they're downstairs." Ariadne throws up her free hand, glaring daggers. "Do you want to wait around to see what they want?"

"We should have left last night," Arthur grumbles, watching Eames step into his other shoe then he turns to Ariadne. "Did they see you?"

"No." Ariadne heads toward the door. "I went down just to get us all a quick breakfast and saw the secretary."

"You mean the one I –"

"Oh yeah," Ariadne cuts off Eames, "almost fell down the stairs in surprise."

Eames pulls his coat off the bed and threads his arms through. "Could have been the waitress at the restaurant or someone here? Martin couldn't have found out from the dream and we did not slip up earlier."

Eames picks up their two bags, holding one out for Arthur. He shakes his head. "Leave it." Eames' eyes widen. Arthur sighs and shoves a new magazine into his gun. "I have other suits and that red shirt of yours was horrible."

Eames just raises his eyebrows once and hikes the other bag up onto his shoulder. Then Ariadne gasps and snaps her fingers.

"Could it have been a rival team?" Her eyes widen. "Our clients did say they'd asked someone else before us."

Eames clicks his tongue. "There are many who want to topple our greatness."

"Forget it! We'll deal with it later." Arthur puts the gun he'd pointed at Ariadne into the holster on his hip and takes a second gun out of the desk drawer. "How many?"

"Five," Ariadne says as they cluster by the door.

Eames takes point at the edge and peers out into the hallway as Ariadne opens the door slowly. Arthur stays just behind, gun ready.

"Clear."

The three slip soundlessly out into the hall and head to the left toward the stairs with Eames in the lead. Just as they reach the door they hear the ding of the elevator at their backs. Eames yanks open the door holding it for the other two as footsteps start in their direction. Slipping through, Eames closes the door carefully then all three run down the stairs with no further regard for noise.

"Make for the back?" Ariadne asks as she propels herself around a bend by the handrail, PASIV case clanging against a bar.

"Kitchen," Arthur barks back, his gun still out.

They run and twist down five flights before they hear what sounds like a door opening far above them.

"Must they be so persistent?" Eames hisses.

"Come on!" Ariadne shouts as they pass the second floor and finally make it to the lobby.

Arthur stops them both at the door to make a quick visual check of the lobby. He stands against the far wall from Eames and Ariadne, glances out then he holds up two fingers. Eames nods and waves a hand at the other two to follow. He zigzags through bland colored hallways leading past mangers' offices and a business center which has seen better days until they come to a door. Eames pushes it open and they see sinks to the left and right, tiled floor under foot.

"And to think I used to make fun of you for always mapping out the hotels we stay in," Ariadne whispers.

"I'll tell you the story of the second time I ended up in jail sometime." Eames spares a moment to grin back at her. "Dead ends can be quite inconvenient in hotels."

"He's making that up," Arthur replies, "really he's just paranoid."

Eames scoffs. "Believe as you will, Arthur."

Ariadne nudges Arthur in the chest with her elbow. "And like you can really talk about being paranoid."

"Hey!" A man in classic waiter garb stops suddenly in front of them as he walks by. "You can't be back here."

Ariadne pulls a black, two-flap ID out of her coat pocket and flashes it quickly at the man. "Inspection; we have access."

The man swallows loudly then steps to the side. The three walk by, Arthur carefully keeping his gun concealed by his leg. Eames snorts quietly but does not stop guiding the way through the maze of the hotel kitchen. Then suddenly a door bangs behind them and people begin to shout.

"Here!" Eames pulls the other two into the nearest closet.

Luckily, the closet is large enough for the three of them, shelves with canned food and boxes and some pots on the floor. They hold their breath with hands ready to fight. After only a minute the door starts to open. Eames grabs the person's arm, clamps a hand over their mouth, and quickly slips Arthur's gun from his hand to hold it against the man's chest. The man, clearly a cook, gapes in surprise at Eames.

"Wrong closet," Eames says.

Arthur scowls as he takes his second gun out. "Now he's a witness."

Eames stares at the young cook, the two of them at eye level. "You don't know who we are and I'm sure you don't want to know."

The man's eyes widen with either fear or confirmation, probably both, then he shakes his head as much as Eames will allow. Eames smiles and nods once back.

"So, you'll not speak and you will stay here when we leave." Eames smiles again but this time with teeth. "And I know what you look like now, don't I?"

The man visibly shakes.

Outside the door they hear running feet, something crashes to the floor and a woman shouts something like 'fuck off!' Arthur's fingers flex on his gun but they stay silent and still. Eames does not look away from their guest's eyes. Ariadne keeps checking her watch.

After five minutes of silence beyond their door Ariadne carefully turns the handle. Eames slides the man across the shelves to the back of the closet.

"Lovely to have met you," he says as he finally lets go of the cook and backs up.

Arthur stands at the edge of the door as Eames and Ariadne step out. Eames keeps the gun pointed into the closet. As Ariadne closes the door Eames smiles and waves once at the man now half sitting shaking on a bag of potatoes.

"Enough," Arthur says taking Eames' hand and putting it back down at his side.

Eames just shrugs and smiles at Arthur until Ariadne smacks his shoulder.

"Come on, time to escape, right?"

"Out to ruin my fun?"

"I'll ruin your fun." Arthur shoves Eames forward slightly.

Eames mock gasps and pouts. "And this is the man I love?"

Arthur sighs heavily. Eames only chuckles at him then walks on again. Ariadne gives Arthur a look then pulls him after Eames toward the back of the kitchen away from suspicious cooks and dishwashers.

Finally, they reach a back door leading out onto a loading dock. Eames swings the door out, steps through and is suddenly punched in the head. Eames stumbles and instinctively pushes a hand back against the door to keep it closed.

"Fucking wank…" Eames starts to bring his gun up.

"Save it!" his attacker grunts and hits him again so Eames falls onto the concrete, the bag he was carrying bouncing away down the ramp and gun clattering out of his hand

Arthur bursts through the door, Glock trained on the man. "Back off!"

Just as quickly a gun clicks and presses into Arthur's back. Arthur's face twitches once but he does not lower his gun.

"Don't think you have the upper hand here," the man facing Arthur says. "Drop it."

"Don't think I wouldn't still shoot you even if he shoots first," Arthur replies, with a slight nod of his head to the person behind him. "You drop it."

The man clenches his teeth then points his gun at Eames on the ground. Arthur tilts his head dangerously, fingers tightening on the weapon in his hands. Eames stares up at the man pointing the gun, hand against the side of his face. His eyes flick to Arthur then to his fallen gun too far out of reach.

"We don't know who you are," the man starts again, "but we know what you did. The chairman was informed. So, you're going to tell us what it is you were looking for and if you found it and who sent you."

"Quite a lot of questions," Eames says, "maybe you should cut it down to one, such as, 'where did she come from?'"

The man's face scrunches up in confusion then the door swings open and slams him in the head, knocking him against the stone wall behind him. The man with the gun on Arthur flips around but Ariadne kicks him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Then before he can regroup and raise his gun up, she punches him squarely in the face with a satisfying yelp of pain. Arthur and Ariadne look left then right, both men out cold.

"Know how many people you're chasing," Ariadne says, brushing down her jacket and flexing her hand.

"Nice." Arthur nods once at Ariadne then glares down at Eames. Eames raises his eyebrows and Arthur points at the unconscious men. "'Where did she come from?' That's what you went with?"

He shrugs. "Predictable?"

"Ridiculous."

"I thought it fit." Ariadne holds out her hand for Eames. "It's nice to make an entrance."

Eames takes her hand and stands up with a groan. "And an impactful one at that."

Ariadne snickers at the same time Arthur scoffs derisively.

"Impactful?" he says.

"What can I say, love?" Eames picks up the gun he'd dropped. "We English do enjoy our puns."

"I'll enjoy the three of us on a train out of this city."

"Well, then," Ariadne opens the door behind her, grabbing the PASIV and bag just inside then starts down the ramp, clapping her hands at them; "we'd better get a move on before the rest of the gang come to check on their friends."

"Always fleeing the scene," Eames says as he trots down the ramp, picking up his bag.

Arthur follows and touches a hand to the small of Eames' back. "That's why it's called crime."

* * *

Eames stands with his back to one window staring at the two men unconscious on the bed, a fist pressed against his lips. The PASIV sits by his foot and he keeps repressing the urge to kick it into the wall.

"It's only been five minutes," Ariadne says quietly from behind him.

"An hour, you mean."

Eames hears her crack her knuckles once, a nervous gesture for her. "Just a little more time."

Of course they'd known it would be a dangerous job, mob connections and extracting infiltrators names were not exactly on the 'easy street' of dream work. What corporate entity would not want to know about the crime lords worming their way into their infrastructure, especially when the corporation involves exporting with limited checks in customs?

Yet they still took the job. Ego perhaps? The best is the best is _the best._

Ariadne screamed and struggled when Eames, wearing the body of Alejandro Barisino, dragged her back into the dim warehouse. Arthur was on his knees in front of their mark Jeremy, another link in the mob chain but a fairly high link. There were three further projection mob guards in a semicircle around Jeremy.

(Just finding a way to get to him to actually perform the extraction had taken two weeks of Arthur's investigation skills, another two of Eames clever use of references, and some twisting architecture work from Ariadne.)

"Leave her alone!" Arthur shouted.

Jeremy kicked Arthur in the side sending him sprawling to the cement. Eames threw Ariadne down by his feet and pulled out his gun.

"Don't hurt her," Arthur gasped, putting up a hand, "please."

"Perhaps you should have thought of what would happen before you ratted," Eames said.

"It wasn't me!" Arthur turned to Jeremy. "I swear! It was one of the others!"

Jeremy smirked. "Oh, really? How do you know there are others? You're all supposed to be working alone."

Arthur swallowed audibly and Eames loaded a new magazine into his gun, cocking the hammer and pressing it against Ariadne's head. She whimpered very convincingly.

"So," Jeremy leaned over Arthur slightly, "what exactly did you tell them?"

"I didn't… I didn't… it wasn't me." Arthur gripped Jeremy's shoes. "You have to believe me!"

Eames knew better than to laugh but he really would have to give Arthur some sort of award later for his performance. Clearing his throat, Eames drew the attention of the others. Jeremy glanced at Eames, sniffed then shook his foot out of Arthur's grasp.

"Well then, Mr. Thompson." Eames pressed the gun against Ariadne's temple again. "Looks like you'll need some convincing."

Then he abruptly pulled the trigger with an echoing bang. Ariadne jerked once then crumpled forward onto the floor.

"No! No!" Arthur screamed. "Bastards!"

"Alejandro!" Jeremy barked.

Eames sighed and looked at him. "What?"

"What are you thinking? You go straight to the head shot?"

"He wasn't talking!" Eames insisted then pointed at Ariadne's still form. "Not like she was helping any."

"Oh? That's your brilliant plan? Just knock her off like we couldn't have used her for something?"

Arthur made a low moaning noise.

Eames shrugged again. "He wasn't talking."

Jeremy glared at Eames then tilted his head back to look up at the high ceiling, some rusted chains and empty lights to add décor to the view. Then he slowly looked down again and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"You know." He stepped to the right once then back to the left. "This has me a bit confused here, Al. Normally I would say you're all for the torture technique."

Eames did not twitch, only crossed his arms and stared back like he was bored. It could be true, this had been one thing Eames could not research and learn about his forge. It was impossible to go on a torture and kill run with the target unless you wanted to be the one in the ditch. (And this was why one did not take jobs involving the mob, idiots).

"I wasn't going to waste the time on this guy." Eames waved his gun hand vaguely at Arthur. "It's not like he doesn't have limbs of his own."

"I don't know, Al. Still seems like I'm missing something; like maybe you wanted to speed this along?"

"What?"

"Like maybe you have something you don't want me to know," Jeremy continued, hand dropping to his side, "like you were personally invested in this."

"What are you talking about?" Eames snapped again, hands on hips.

"I'm talking about this."

Eames saw it happening, saw Jeremy pull his gun out of his jacket, saw it rise up but he couldn't react, couldn't move in time. All he could think was 'fucking shit, this isn't the plan!' Then Jeremy shot him in the chest. He heard Arthur gasp, felt welt blood start to leak down his shirt then he fell backwards. He died before the pain hit him. Eames surprised Ariadne so much she knocked the phone off the desk when he woke up.

Now Eames stares at Jeremy and Arthur on the bed. Maybe if he keeps his eyes focused enough some magic will occur and Arthur will wake up on command. He hates waiting like this, wants to do something, but he stands immobile.

The plan should have been to kill Arthur at that point. Arthur wouldn't talk after some more intimidation, possibly some abuse; they'd get frustrated - bang - the boy is dead. Eames brings up the thought maybe it was one of the others? Then Jeremy, hopefully, spills the list of the people in the operation. There would have been so many ways Eames could have learned everything they needed as one of the guys on the inside.

Obviously, things had not followed that plan.

"I should go back in." Eames looks at Ariadne and she shakes her head.

Eames grunts and turns back. The men lie still and breathe even. The clock on the PASIV device still has twenty minutes, hours and hours in the dream, too many hours for Eames' liking.

"They could be doing anything to him!" Eames insists.

"He shot you!" Ariadne points at Jeremy. "Obviously he thought you were the rat."

"Or just one of them." Eames waves a hand in the air. "I could have been working with Arthur or Arthur could have come to me. Who knows what this bastard thinks?"

Ariadne strides over and pulls Eames by the arm away from the bed. "Arthur hasn't woken up so obviously they haven't killed him. There is still a chance he could get the information."

"But –"

"Arthur is very smart," Ariadne insists, "you know he could."

"They could be torturing him!" Eames growls but makes no move toward the bed again, only stares at Ariadne.

She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Just give it a little more time."

Eames says nothing and looks at his watch, six minutes. Ariadne steps away from him and paces slowly back and forth across the ugly orange carpet, a large coffee stain near the closet door.

Eames crosses his arms again, bites his finger nail and stares at Arthur's face. He lies very still, solid in place, perfect hair and prefect features frozen in this induced sleep. It is obviously unnatural, nothing how Arthur looks when he really sleeps.

When Arthur sleeps for real you can see him breathe, his lips parted with no creases in his forehead. He looks relaxed more than is ever possible when he is awake. Eames likes to watch the slow easing of his features as that ever slight stiffness softens into a more youthful calm than seems possible. It's a casual dip down, a wave which doesn't crash but fades over his face. Arthur also tends to shift when he sleeps; arm over Eames then rolling away then always back again, never still once his mind has a chance to break out of the mold of work and what is next and who are they researching. Arthur asleep is Arthur unguarded.

When Arthur sleeps in an extraction he is a statue, a mannequin, face like stone, you can barely see him breathe and you know it's not real.

Eames looks at his watch again, seven minutes. He taps his foot.

"I should go back in." He can feel panic at the edge of his senses. "If it's been this long something has happened. Arthur would have finished it sooner, wouldn't he? Something is wrong."

"Calm down, Eames."

Eames whips around and points violently at her, his normal casual and coy veneer cracked open. "Don't fucking tell me to calm down!"

"Eames, you're dead in there!" Ariadne shouts right back. "The mark will know and the dream will collapse. If you go back in you'll ruin any progress Arthur might have made!"

"Or I'll save him more hours of torture, how about that then?"

"Eames," Ariadne puts up her hands placating, "I understand. You know I wouldn't want Arthur hurt but you can't just jump back in."

"And why not?" Eames turns and walks back over to the bed. "I have the equipment right here."

"You're being irrational!"

Eames shrugs and starts to kneel. "Maybe."

"Eames, stop!" Ariadne grabs Eames' arm and pulls.

He staggers away and almost falls with the force of Ariadne's tug. Then he regroups and pushes her back away from him. Eames is much bigger than Ariadne but they both know he wouldn't really hurt her. However, they also know if Eames wants to do something Ariadne would have to hurt him to stop him.

"I am not leaving him in there just to finish a job." Eames points back at the two people on the bed again. "I'd rather bollocks this one up then let him stay in there with that man."

"Very romantic," Ariadne says with sudden bitter tones, "I'm sure we'll all be very happy having to run from the repercussions."

Eames stares at her for a moment, an ugly frown on his face. "Oh, there will be repercussions either way, darling."

"Eames, just give him two more minutes. Give him a chance to finish it!"

"Make me, dear."

"I don't want to…."

Eames pushes her sharply again so she stumbles this time and hits the desk with a hiss. "Then don't."

Eames strides back toward the bed before she can say anything else. He kneels quickly by the machine and pulls out a tube. Then Arthur jolts upright on the bed with a half shouted gasp making Ariadne and Eames both jump.

"Arthur!" Ariadne says.

They see his eyes whip around the room in one second with that calculating, cataloging, aggressive gaze which has won and killed so many times.

– Door to the left, two windows to the right – red curtains closed, too visible to the outside and too thin to hide a person – generic black desk at the wall, one bed – thin bedspread, sheets over used, hotel – three chairs, one man unconscious, two others conscious, one PASIV, Browning on the bed –

It all goes by in one blink of Arthur's eyes and he grabs the gun right by his hand where it stays every time they go under. Eames stands but before he can speak, say 'wait, Arthur,' the man is on him.

"No, don't!" Ariadne shouts and rushes forward.

Arthur knocks Eames down, easily kicking out his knees and pouncing on him, arm against his chest and gun digging into Eames' neck. Ariadne freezes two feet away. Eames chokes and can't speak for a moment from the pressure of Arthur's gun against his trachea. Arthur's finger is tight on the trigger.

"Arthur," Eames whispers and Arthur digs the gun in further.

Eames groans and blinks back reaction tears. He can see Ariadne coiled tight in his peripheral vision, wanting to lash out at Arthur but she stays still. They both know which one of them is faster.

"Arthur," Eames says again as softly as possible while still being audible. He keeps his hands open and out to the side as non-threatening as possible. "Arthur, it's all right. You're awake. It's us."

Arthur does not move and neither do Eames or Ariadne. Then Arthur blinks once and Eames can see the hard point man gaze flick away. Arthur blinks again then takes a sudden sharp breath in. He exhales, a shudder sliding through his body, and the gun slips out of his fingers to land on the floor beside Eames' head. Ariadne is there in a flash grabbing the gun and backing away again.

"Arthur, it's all right," Eames says soothingly as he can.

Arthur quickly moves his arm off of Eames' chest and plants both palms on the floor on either side of Eames' head. He breathes in and out slowly like he's trying to calm his heart. He stays very still and quiet just looking at Eames' face, into his eyes; Eames the center of all gravity, all reality.

Behind them, Eames can hear Ariadne moving, packing everything up, checking on the mark, finishing the job. She does not ask if Arthur learned the information.

"Hi," Eames says softly, keeping his eyes on the man above him.

Arthur opens his mouth slightly but doesn't say anything, just breathes quietly. Eames moves his arms, curving his wrists back awkwardly to try and touch Arthur's hands. Arthur gets there first and takes Eames left hand in his right so they're palm to palm, fingers curled together.

The PASIV case suddenly snaps closed behind them and Arthur's eyes shift to the side once.

"I got it," he says, business voice as if nothing out of the ordinary has happen. "Names and extent of the infiltration, everything we needed to know."

Eames sees Ariadne pick up the PASIV device. "Okay." She walks past them both and out the door, leaving Jeremy still unconscious on the bed.

Eames knows without asking that Ariadne pumped him full of more drugs to give Arthur time. The past argument is over now. Eames also knows Ariadne will be standing right outside the door, eyes like a lioness, a fox, a woman who would break your legs if you even asked about the time.

Arthur's eyes slide slowly back onto Eames like there are drugs in his system and he needs Eames' face to flush them out. His fingers grip too tightly onto Eames' hand and Eames knows there will be nail marks. Slowly, Eames lifts his free hand and touches Arthur's face.

"It's okay."

The corners of Arthur's mouth quirk slightly and the arm holding him above Eames shifts. He slides down slowly so their chests are flush and his forehead rests on Eames'. They share the same space, the same air, eyes closed, skin touching. Eames gently pets Arthur's hair and speaks in soothing, simple tones, speaks with love.

"It's okay, Arthur, it's okay, you're safe, it's okay, it's okay."

* * *

The light in the pub is dim, almost matching the evening light outside. People fill the place leaving nearly no room for travel between the front and back of the establishment. Everything is made of dark wood from the tables to the floor to the ornate floral molding around the ceiling and behind the bar. Arthur, Eames, and Ariadne sit on three stools in front of the bar. Eames and Ariadne watch the football match on the small television screen above the bartender's head.

"He really is a shitty kicker," Ariadne mutters as she downs the last of her beer.

Eames scoffs. "Look at him run though, talent."

"You're looking at something else."

"It all comes back to sex with you."

She laughs and smacks his arm with the back of her hand. "I would love to –"

Eames makes a slicing motion with his hand and cuts her off. "I am not sure I am ready for such details of your depraved brain, my dear."

"Your influence," Arthur grunts.

Ariadne laughs at Eames. "I can't believe it; did I just find your line in the sand?"

Eames takes a sip of his gin and tonic. "No."

"Are you two really going to watch soccer all night?" Arthur grumbles.

Eames just leans over and kisses his temple. "Don't complain."

"I'll complain all I want. It's bad enough we are in a bar where anyone could reco-"

Ariadne cuts him off, "No one knows what we look like, stop worrying."

"Well, I'll blame you when we end up in jail."

"It's Bristol," Eames says with a shrug.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ariadne raises a finger. "I think that implies he's been in jail in Bristol and it wasn't so bad."

Eames snorts and sips his drink but does not confirm or deny. Ariadne stands up and reaches into Eames' top coat pocket. She comes out with a pack of cigarettes and matches. Eames raises an eyebrow at her.

"Shut up." She points at the empty beer bottle. "I've had two and I am half American. We smoke when we drink."

"This from the Paris school girl," Eames remarks.

She glares then turns and walks toward the door, pushing through the throngs of people.

"Fuck it," Arthur says suddenly.

Arthur finishes his drink, picks up Eames', finishes that one too then gives Eames a pointed look. Eames glances at each empty glass then up at Arthur, eyebrows flying up.

"Angry with me?"

"You're both right." Eames whistles in surprise and Arthur claps a hand over Eames' mouth. "I'm going to enjoy myself, don't gloat, and by the way you're done with soccer for tonight."

Eames pulls Arthur's hand down. "It's football, love."

"Get me another drink."

Eames bites his lip. "You know when you use that tone it's just sinful how much I want you to throw me over this bar."

"Later." Arthur taps the bar top. "Drink."

Eames nods and stands up, walking down the bar to pursue the bar tender staring at the far television screen. As soon as Arthur swivels his stool around to face the bar again a blond man slides into Eames vacant seat and puts a hand on Arthur's arm.

"Finally." Arthur turns and resists the instinct to break the man's arm. "I thought you'd never be alone."

"…Really."

The man waves a hand around. "Not many of my type in here but you're just perfect."

Arthur sighs. "Uh huh."

The man leans closer and slides his hand down Arthur's arm so his fingers brush Arthur's knuckles. "Buy you a drink? Or we could just skip that step."

Arthur picks up the man's hand off of his and puts it back on the bar. "I don't think so."

Apparently the removal of his hand does not discourage the blond because he scoots his stool closer to Arthur, knees brushing against Arthur's thigh, and puts a hand on Arthur's lower back. Arthur thinks of about ten ways he could kill the man right now, his favorite involving the broken glass of a Jameson bottle.

"Fine." The blond leans in a bit. "No drink necessary. I've got a car just around the corner not to mention a nice flat." He points behind Arthur. "No need to stay with my mates. They're busy anyway and I'm sure you'd be a much better way to pass the time."

Arthur glances back at the knot of men staring at the soccer match then turns back around just in time to see Eames appear behind the blond. He sees Eames look at the man's hands, check the door, then he puts the drinks down on the bar.

"No, don–" Arthur starts.

Then Eames punches the man hard in the jaw, knocking him off the stool to smash into the floor chin first. Eames clears his throat and sits down again holding up one glass.

"Your drink."

Outside the bar, Ariadne stares up at the sky watching the smoke from her one cigarette waft upward. She really needs to quit this trashy habit, smoking when drinking. It's like she's in under grad again and that's just silly. Plus no one likes to smell like cigarette smoke. Taking a last drag, she throws the cigarette down on the street and crushes it under her heel.

"New plan," she says to herself, "never again."

Just as she puts the pack and matches into her pocket the door to the pub flies open.

"Time to go!" Eames shouts as the two of them suddenly rush out of the bar.

"What's going on now? Did you – oof!"

Eames scoops up Ariadne mid sentence, heaving her onto his shoulder and then runs after Arthur down the alleyway.

"What are you – put me down, Eames!"

"No time, must run and - my god, have you gotten heavy?"

"I'm not a twelve year old!" Ariadne gasps suddenly when she looks up. "Why is the whole bar chasing us?"

Eames stops for one moment, drops Ariadne on her feet then they are both off again.

"I may have started a fight."

"He punched a guy in the head," Arthur shouts over his shoulder.

Ariadne barks a half laugh, half gasp. "What? Why?"

Eames glances back once at the six or so people chasing them then grabs Arthur's arm as he catches up to the other man. Arthur shoots him a glare. Eames just smiles at Ariadne and points quickly at Arthur.

"Arthur's fault?"

"Oh, of course, all me." Then Arthur snorts. "Though the one was getting fresh."

Eames laughs and aims a sloppy kiss at Arthur cheek, mostly missing. "He's just too pretty."

Arthur elbows Eames off as they run. "He may have also –" Arthur gasps, "– had some choice words to say about – I fucking hate you, Eames, Christ – about the other's girlfriends, boyfriends, and extended family."

"You said they had small dicks, didn't you?"

Eames nods with a grin and a heaving breath. "I did."

"Wow." Ariadne sprints ahead. "We're running from something not extraction related!"

Eames begins to laugh and nearly falls. Ariadne chances a look back then makes a disgusted noise.

"Oh come on, let's stop. We could take them."

"No," Arthur says, "we're not killing them."

"Did I say kill?"

Eames pants. "I believe Arthur wishes to not make a scene."

"You call this 'not a scene?'"

"Car!" Arthur shouts, pointing to his silver Audi parked by the curb.

Arthur whips out his keys, clicks the unlock button as the three of them hit the doors at the same time. Ariadne whips around the car and reaches the driver's side first. Arthur throws her the keys. They all slam themselves inside just as the drunken angry men chasing them reach the sidewalk. From the back seat Eames smiles and blows them a kiss as Ariadne spins the car away.

"You can't punch everyone that makes a pass at me," Arthur chides

Eames just shakes his head. "Uni all over again."

"Even when we're not working," Ariadne says, "we end up in trouble."

Arthur huffs but smiles in the review mirror at Eames grinning smugly in the back seat.

* * *

Ariadne opens the door to Eames' apartment without knocking, slams it behind her, then plops down on a stool in front of the island in the kitchen. Arthur, seated on a stool next to the one Ariadne just collapsed into, stares at her with his coffee mug held part way up in the air. Ariadne shoves the one piece of toast left on Arthur's plate into her mouth, swallowing it so fast she nearly chokes. Arthur just blinks at her, still frozen.

"What was…?" Eames begins as he comes in the room then stops when he sees Ariadne. Cautiously, Eames walks over and stands on the other side of the counter. "Good morning, Ariadne."

"Dom asked me on a date," she blurts out.

"What?" Arthur snaps in the same moment Eames says, "finally."

The two men turn sharply to look at each other.

"What?" Eames asks with surprise just as Arthur says, "finally?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"What do you mean, finally?"

Eames clears his throat then reaches out and pushes Arthur's hand holding his coffee mug down so it's back on the counter. Then he lays his hands flat on top.

"I simply think it is good to see Cobb getting back out there. He has been alone for quite a long time even after those lovely years you two spent dealing with his projection wife turning feral." Arthur huffs. "So it's good to see him trying to find someone new in his life."

Arthur glances sidelong at the woman next to him. "Someone new?"

"I'm not new," Ariadne points out.

Eames waves a hand in the air as if to say 'not important' then he picks up Arthur's mug and takes a sip.

"Of course he's going to ask our dear girl." Eames hands Arthur back his mug and pats Ariadne's arm once. "You're probably the only woman he knows."

Ariadne groans and places her hands on her forehead with her elbows propped up on the counter top.

"Dom is too old for Ariadne," Arthur counters, pointing at the woman with his coffee mug.

"That could be a matter of opinion."

"Is he too old?" Arthur asks, turning to Ariadne.

She sighs and drops her head onto the counter. "That's not the point!"

"What is the point?" Arthur snaps, banging his mug down on the marble.

Ariadne jerks her head up once. "Arthur, its Dom, that's the point!"

"What?"

Eames puts a hand on Arthur's arm. "Hush, darling. For a man as attractive as you are it's a wonder you've made it this far."

Arthur gapes. "What does that mean?"

"Ariadne," Eames touches the top of her head and she looks up. "What did you say to him?"

Ariadne sighs then sits up straight. "Well, it just caught me by surprise. I told him I'd have to think about it."

"And what did he say?"

"He said it was just dinner, nothing too serious." Ariadne takes Arthur's coffee and gulps some down. "Trying to reassure me, I guess?"

"And what did you say?"

"Son of a –" Arthur grabs his coffee back from Ariadne and groans at Eames. "What are you, a fifteen year old girl?"

"I have been." Eames takes the mug from Arthur and raises his eyebrows. "Twice."

Eames downs the last of the coffee and puts the mug down on the counter. Arthur glares at Eames and points at the mug.

"I had about one sip of that."

"So grumpy in the morning," Ariadne mutters.

Swiping his mug off of the counter, Arthur stands up and walks over to the coffee pot beside the refrigerator. As Arthur pours himself more coffee, Ariadne chews her bottom lip and looks at Eames.

"So, what do I do? I mean, this is Dom. I feel like he… He's just…"

"Too close?" Eames finishes.

"Yes." She nods, an expression of mild surprise on her face. "I guess when you work with someone, when you know that much about the levels of their mind…"

"But it's always that way once you've dreamed with someone." Eames comes around the counter and sits in Arthur's chair. "There is less mystery."

"Or it makes more."

Eames and Ariadne turn to look at Arthur. He leans with his hip against the blue countertop and tilts his head at Eames. Eames just smiles slightly back then turns to look at Ariadne.

"I think you should give it a try, get dinner out of him at least; he's sure to pay like the occasional gentleman he is."

Arthur suddenly jerks up by the counter. "You can't ever tell Dom you talked to us - to me - about this."

"I'm sure he's already surmised, love."

Ariadne laughs and looks away. "He did say 'ask the boys and get back to me.'"

Eames begins to laugh while Arthur practically drops his mug on the counter, liquid sloshing out, and puts his face in his hands. "I can't believe this is my life…"

Eames snickers more into his hand.

"Okay, done. This is done." Ariadne stands up, picks up Arthur's refilled mug, and chugs down half of it with a hiss. "I'm calling Dom, goodbye."

"Why is it always my coffee with you two?" Arthur snaps at her back.

Ariadne opens the door. "Goodbye!" Then it slams shut.

Eames looks at Arthur. "You are simply no help."

Arthur glares at Eames then points at his mug. "I gave the coffee."

Ariadne and Dom go out on a total of two dates, one Ethiopian dinner and one art gallery followed by martinis. They decide, after the food and the laughter and the money spent, the whole thing feels just too weird. They're practically siblings with their mirrored skills as architects and their time working together on inception.

Plus, Ariadne effectively helped Dom kill his wife for the second time which would be an odd thing to have in any relationship.

* * *

The three of them are in the Notre Dame. Their German mark has a penchant for cathedrals as well as famous places. The most famous cathedral of Paris is perfect to tell one's friends about. Also, if you're a cocaine addict with a habit of theft then the crowded, jostling throngs of the Notre Dame are a welcome haven.

Arthur follows their mark quietly at a distance, watching her moves as Eames passes by, partner drug dealer forge in place.

Then without warning the world blinks out for an entire second. Everything is blurry, indistinct, all colors and none and it's like floating on a blank sheet of paper. Then the scenery returns, architecture crashing down again with the force of an earthquake. Arthur spins in place, completely shocked. The mark shakes her head, looking from side to side but seems to accept she was just imagining things.

Eames, however, isn't the drug dealer anymore. Arthur sees him suddenly sprinting down the crowded hall toward the front entrance, knocking over chairs as he goes. Projections curse at him as he passes by. He is heading straight for Ariadne and Arthur can see why. She is lying by one dark marble column on the floor curled around herself. Arthur turns and bolts.

"Ariadne?" Eames is kneeling down beside her. "Ariadne? Love, what is it? Ariadne!"

Arthur runs up beside them. "What's wrong?"

Eames only flashes Arthur a panicked look which makes Arthur take a step back in surprise.

Ariadne groans in pain and uncoils, lying flat. She jerks her head from side to side, eyes scrunched tight. The colors in the room start to fade to a dull gray. A projection touches Arthur's shoulder.

"Is she –"

"She's fine!" Arthur snaps.

"Ariadne," Eames whispers and holds her face still, "talk to us, dear, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"My head…" she groans. "I can't think straight!" She gasps. "It's just - it's all swirling, oh my god!"

Suddenly, she springs up and jumps to her feet, knocking Eames over and barreling past Arthur toward one of the front doors to the right. Arthur yanks Eames up by his arm and chases after her, mark completely forgotten. Ahead of them, Ariadne hits the doors, pulls them open and runs outside. They follow her and find themselves running down the Pont Neuf, water churning like a storm below and projections clinging to the sides of the bridge.

"What the…" Eames starts, staring about in surprise.

"Keep going," Arthur says, "we have to catch her."

Ariadne is running and running and she isn't stopping. Her head turns from side to side and the white clouds suddenly morph and grow, turning perfectly black above them like clouds never are. Rain and hail pelt down on the bridge, falling so fast that stones break off the pillars to sink into the Seine.

"Oh please, stop, stop!" Ariadne shouts and falls onto her knees holding her head.

Arthur and Eames catch up to her on the slippery stone just in time for her to jump up again. Eames tries to grab onto her arm but she twists away and climbs up onto the ledge, hand on a lamppost. All three of them are soaked already.

"Ariadne, stop!" Arthur shouts, climbing up after her. "Let us help you. Tell us what's wrong!"

Without responding she jumps into the water.

"Has to be something above," Eames says as he climbs up.

They jump after her. They hit the water and fall through onto iron. They look around and see people with cameras leaning over guard rails, a scenic view of Paris below, no rain.

"The Eiffel Tower," Arthur says as he stands.

Eames gets up and they both see a flash of a red coat as Ariadne starts to climb the stairs to the second level. There are no people in her way. They run after, twisting up and up, somehow not managing to catch up with her.

"Something is mixing her up," Arthur shouts back at Eames. "She's making wild connections, trying to make sense of something."

"She's got Paris down." Eames almost trips but keeps going. "She's picking the big things, the landmarks we talked about in planning."

"She's retracting her steps in the architecture."

Eames gasps. "It's the sedative formula!" Arthur stops in surprise but Eames shoves him onward in the back. "Bala said one person who'd used it had side effects."

"What side effects?" Arthur snaps angrily.

"It was once," Eames snaps back, "he didn't tell me!"

"Make it twice."

Suddenly, they see Ariadne stop a few steps above them, only about half way to the second level. She turns to her right, touches the latticed iron and pushes. A square swings out like a door and she runs through. They reach the opening and jump after her.

They land running on pavement, a sidewalk with shops to their right and the street to their left. The shops are glowing golden and in the street the cars are stopped. In the distance the Arc de Triomphe looms only the stone has turned gray, almost sliver.

"Champs-Élysées, we talked about taking the mark down through the shops." Eames weaves around fallen café tables, pulling Arthur by the arm to avoid a chair. "High prices, obvious class and status, with her possible connections would've been perfect."

"I know!" Arthur bites back.

Ahead of them by only a few yards, Ariadne suddenly pitches forward and drops onto the pavement, hunched around her knees.

"Grab her!" Arthur shouts.

They catch up before she can move again and Eames takes her by the arms, pulling her up. Her eyes are open looking around wildly as if she can't actually see correctly. The colors of the dream spike up, sharper and brighter, turning into golds and silvers and bronzes.

"Help me…" she whimpers.

"I'm sorry." Arthur pulls his gun out of the holster around his ankle and puts it against Ariadne's head.

He pulls the trigger.

The minute Arthur and Eames wake up they jump out of their chairs and pull Ariadne upright on the bed. She gasps and tires to push them off.

"It's all right, Ariadne," Eames says, "you're awake."

Ariadne's hands reach blindly into her pocket, pulling out her pawn. She rolls it over and over in her one hand, other against her head.

"I can't see straight…" she stares at them, looks around the room, stares at them. "My head is spinning, everything was too bright, the dream felt wrong and I couldn't connect the…I couldn't…"

"It was the sedative," Arthur tells her. "There have been side effects in others."

She blinks. "I see…"

Suddenly she slides off the edge of the bed and throws up on the carpet. She gasps twice, pushing her hair out of her face and throws up again. Arthur and Eames look at each other. Eames leans down and touches her back. She groans, waving him off. Slowly she stands up still shaking and puts her pawn back in her pocket.

"Get me out of here," she says, latching onto both their arms, "now."

The trio leave the hotel, PASIV torn away from their mark's arm who they leave to wake up confused as she likes. They never contact the client. The do however pay a little visit to Bala's shop in Dahka, must get their money back. If Bala has a broken jaw and some smashed merchandise after their visit then no one mentions it.

* * *

"Ready to be home?" Eames asks, looking at the woman beside him in the driver's seat.

"You ready to be home? Two months without Arthur?"

Eames nods at Ariadne and looks out at the passing buildings. The two of them had taken a job with a different extractor while Arthur was busying helping Cobb with his ill father; interesting to think of Arthur in the role of healer instead of the one holding the gun. Then again Arthur had really been going more to make sure Cobb didn't go crazy, something he had extensive experience with. While he was gone, the two of them had received the job offer. They'd had time, seemed an easy job, so off they went. It was only a week or so for Arthur but their duo job had ended up being longer than expected.

"I'll be glad to be back to our normal team," Ariadne says. "I'm not sure I really liked David and Rose."

Eames snorts. "As an extractor, think David was a bit rough around the edges."

"And Arthur could run circles around Rose."

"Why did we do this job again?"

Ariadne turns the car to the right and points a finger at Eames. "It was your fault. 'Oh Ariadne, it'll be a quick job, easy work love, simple architecture darling, bit of extra cash sweetheart.'"

"I don't recall using the word 'sweetheart.'"

"All because they laid on the sugar sweet compliments about your forging."

Eames tilts his sunglasses down and looks at her over the edge. "Went well, though."

"Yes, because the mark was a small fry."

"You're just upset because you have an elitist streak now, dear."

"'Dear,'" Ariadne mocks.

Eames snorts and laughs as Ariadne slides the car up to the curb. She shuts off the engine and looks up at the apartment building.

"Home sweet, Arthur's home."

"One of them." Eames smiles, opens the car door, and steps out. "Coming up to say hello?"

Ariadne looks at the steering wheel then back to Eames with a sly smile. She shakes her head once. "No need to get in the way of that."

"Of what?"

She laughs. "When Arthur jumps on you, of course."

"My dear," Eames crouches to pull his bag out of the backseat then stands up straight again. "Arthur saves most of his jumping for armed projections and occasional dream buildings."

"I think you might be underestimating how much he'll have missed you."

"I think you might be underestimating how much control he has." Eames hoists the strap of the bag onto his shoulder and adjusts his sunglasses. "And how much he subconsciously enjoys annoying me with his false indifference."

Ariadne laughs. "Okay, well, when you get knocked over you can tell Arthur I said 'I told you so.'"

"I'll tell him you missed him too."

Ariadne starts the engine again as Eames closes the car door. She waves her hand at him then pulls away from the curb. Eames watches the bumper of her car grow smaller down the strip for a minute until he can't see the shinning metal any longer. Then he turns and enters the building taking the elevator up to the seventh floor, same gray carpet and nondescript walls. Eames steels himself to control his desire to drop Arthur to the floor the minute he gets inside and walks down the hall.

Eames is in front of the door with his key out, ready to sneak on in, when Arthur opens it. Eames looks up from the empty space where the door knob had just been and smiles at Arthur standing before him in a white shirt and gray vest with trousers to match, no tie. He looks like heaven.

"Hello," Eames says.

Arthur smiles and steps aside slightly to give Eames room to pass by into the apartment. "Hi."

As soon as Eames steps inside and Arthur closes the door, Eames finds himself pressed up against said door by Arthur's body, lips on his and fingers unbuttoning his jacket. Eames drops his bag, sun glasses falling off his head to clatter on the floor and forgets about breathing. Eames catches a moan in his throat and kisses back just as enthusiastically. He keeps his hands on Arthur's face out of the other man's way as his fingers fly at dream speeds over Eames' buttons. It feels like it's been a year and not just two months and Arthur is oxygen, sunlight, everything.

Eames tries to reach into his pocket, touch his totem, assure himself that Arthur is just crazy, not unreal, but Arthur grabs both his hands, and pins them against the door.

"No," Arthur kisses him again, bites his lip, "if anyone is dreaming it's me."

Eames blinks again and can't think of anything, nothing catchy or coy or clever, to say.

Arthur lets Eames' hands go to pull off his jacket, rip through a few shirt buttons and slide his hands against Eames' skin. He makes a satisfied humming noise and slowly breathes out. His crazed motions begin to slow down and he leans against Eames against the door. Arthur kisses Eames calmly like he's some French dessert and dances his hands around Eames body, mapping skin. Eames lets his hands settle together at the small of Arthur's back.

"You missed me," he says softly between kisses.

Arthur laughs once, a small sound of unsurprised amusement. "Yes, Eames, I did."

Eames smiles in a shy way which he rarely does around anyone else apart from Arthur. Arthur laughs again.

"You know that since the inception job we haven't been apart for more than two weeks at a time and inception was three years ago."

Eames' eyes widen and he purses his lips. "Ah." Then he pulls some of his well crafted persona off the floor and cocks his head to the side. "Still, Arthur, dear, you are not usually one to pounce into such physical displays of affection."

"Only for you." Arthur pulls a hand away from his skin crusade and thumbs Eames' neck. "I guess you're rubbing off on me or maybe this is just me in a long term relationship."

Eames smiles slowly. "I believe the extent of this proclaimed emotion is making my head spin."

Arthur scratches his nails once along the base of Eames' neck. "That's the idea."

Eames squeezes Arthur and kisses him. Then he makes a 'hmmm' noise into the kiss and pulls back.

"Oh, I am compelled from Ariadne to say: 'I told you so.'"

"I know." Arthur pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and holds it up for Eames to see. "She texted just before I opened the door."

Eames glances at the touch screen:_ Tell Eames I said 'I told you so' when you assault him. Missed you! –A_

Eames looks back at Arthur and smiles. "Texting while driving can be dangerous, will have to talk to that one."

Arthur takes his arm down and pockets his phone again. "Not right now." Then he pulls Eames sharply away from the door.

* * *

Arthur, Ariadne, and Eames crash down together behind a cubicle wall as bullets rain over them, ruining the carpet and making papers fly everywhere. Arthur curves around the right side of the cube while Eames goes around the left and both fire back at the projections. Ariadne keeps low in the middle and rips open the black executive folder they just took from the wall safe.

"What the hell?" Ariadne snaps, one sheet of paper held in front of her face.

"What?" the men ask without looking.

"It's just account numbers!"

Eames glances at her and groans. "How many?"

"Um, about two dozen." A bullet tears through the fabric of the cube wall and barely misses Ariadne's shoulder.

Eames jumps up for one moment, shoots the nearest projection with the middle shot and ducks back down unscathed.

"It doesn't even say if they are deposit accounts or ones stolen from. I don't even know if they are within or outside of the company. It's just the numbers, nothing identifying."

Eames snorts. "I do hate insider trading, so boring."

"The rest must be on level one," Arthur says. "Here, switch."

Arthur slips back into the cube and takes the paper from Ariadne as she takes his gun and slides to his vacant post. Eames glances back briefly at Arthur.

"You and your photographic memory."

Arthur spares Eames a quick smile. "Certainly helps."

Eames leans out again and shoots two projections in the chest. "Best point man in the business."

"Another wave!" Ariadne shoot a female projection in the stomach then smacks Arthur's shoulder. "Are you done? You're the better shot here!"

Arthur stares at the page again then drops the paper and slides behind Ariadne. "Twenty four, all set."

"The kick is not for another twelve minutes," Eames says, "Could we have missed something here?"

"Daniel is long gone with this sort of armed response." Ariadne checks her watch.

"Bomb threat." Eames laughs. "How does that work so often?"

"Though he could be trying to back up his files," Ariadne continues, "to erase the evidence just in case there is an inquiry or something and we could get him there."

"With this many projections firing on us?" Arthur counters.

"Fine, I did make level one his house for a reason."

Eames ducks back behind the thin wall and fumbles through his pockets for another clip. Ariadne takes Eames' gun, yanks another clip and magazine out of her pants then shoves them into Eames gun and hands it back.

"Thank you, dear." Eames turns back to the edge of the wall. "Arthur, you said the one computer at his house has extra security and –"

Eames finishes his sentence with a shout as he is shot in the chest and drops his gun. Eames knocks against the cubicle across from theirs then crumples to the side onto his back at Ariadne's feet.

"Damn it!" Ariadne shouts, putting a hand on the blood pooling on Eames' chest and picks up his gun with her other.

Arthur glances back once and frowns. Eames shakes his head and pushes off Ariadne's hand.

"I'm done."

"We need the rest." Ariadne squeezes Eames' hand and shoots over the edge of the wall. "Tell Roxanne we have the numbers. We just need the connecting names and dates and company information."

Eames closes his eyes and whispers, "yes, ma'am."

Arthur and Ariadne both spare a moment from their shooting to look down at Eames. He is dead. Arthur shakes his head sharply once then looks at Ariadne.

"And you thought a fourth would be good."

She sighs and looks back at the projections clustered around the far edge of the cubicle rows. "We needed Eames down here for the vice-president. Daniel reports directly to him."

"You could have been above."

"I saw your dreaming of this level. It was not good enough."

"Well, then I could have been above."

Ariadne makes a frustrated noise. "Arthur, if you're going to do this every time Eames gets shot in a dream I am going to shoot you first. Plus Roxanne got us all of the entry codes and the references Eames needed to get into Dytan Dynamics. She was necessary."

Arthur huffs derisively.

A projection suddenly breaks the line and comes charging at their position. Ariadne leans back, grabs the laptop off the desk she and Arthur are crouched around then throws it at the projection. The computer hits the man in the knees sending him falling to the ground where Ariadne shoots him in the head.

She nods back at Arthur. "You're just upset you had to share your role for this job."

Arthur laughs once and switches guns. "Maybe." He stands up, shoots three projections in rapid succession then drops down again. "Or maybe I just prefer us as a trio."

Ariadne smiles, "me too."

"We've got to move."

Ariadne and Arthur jump up together and both run down the isles between the cubicles with one row between them. Arthur stops, turns once, and shoots behind him. The projections are giving chase.

"They're following!" Arthur shouts ahead at Ariadne.

Ariadne comes up from her hunch shooting and jumps through the door out into the hall. A projection shoots after her, shattering one of the four glass windows which make up part of the room's wall. Ariadne dives out of the way, broken glass catching her face and she makes it down the hall.

"Arthur!" she shouts and presses the button for the elevator.

Arthur comes tearing out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and shoots back through the broken window.

"Why bother to close the door?" Ariadne asks with a laugh.

The elevator dings and opens. Arthur runs and slides into the elevator after Ariadne. She punches the button for the lobby and the door close button. As the metal slides shut they see projections running down the hall with angered looks. Ariadne snorts.

"It's kind of satisfying to destroy this building." Arthur glances at her. "The architecture is so ugly and no one likes cubicles."

They both laugh and suddenly they hear bouncy French sounding music. Ariadne's brow crinkles and she looks at Arthur.

_Je revois la ville en fête et en délire…_

"La Foule?"

Arthur shrugs. "I was tired of the other song and La Foule is much peppier."

"Did you break the other CD?"

"Yes."

They blink, silver elevator doors clicking out, and they sit up on the kitchen floor of Daniel's house. Eames, Roxanne, and their mark are nowhere to be seen. Ariadne pulls the tubes out of their arms and stands up as Arthur hides the dream PASIV away in a closet. Just as Ariadne walks to the door it opens. Arthur pulls out his gun but Eames comes through and he drops his arms.

"Have fun?" Eames asks.

Ariadne peeks out the door and sees the hall empty. "Roxanne and Daniel?"

Eames waves a hand to the left. "Roxanne is presenting a very thorough and detailed plan to upgrade the company's computer security system to him as we speak upstairs in his study."

"Wasn't that her back up plan?" Arthur asks.

"Apparently he wasn't keen on making out."

"That was not her plan." Ariadne pulls the door all the way open and walks out quietly.

The men follow her down the hall, a wall with portraits to their left and two closed doors on their right. They can hear people talking somewhere above them. As they turn to the left the hall opens into a large, high-ceilinged antechamber. Arthur takes point at the stairs to the left while Eames and Ariadne head off to the right. Eames drops to his knees in front of the wooden double doors and starts working on the lock.

Suddenly the whole house shakes violently. Three portraits fall to the floor and Ariadne slams against the wall.

"How much time do we have?" Arthur asks.

"We should still have at least ten minutes until the second kick." Ariadne stands upright again and glances up. "Could it be the train?"

"Better hope not." Eames bangs the heel of his palm against the door knob, something clearly falls on the inside of the room and the door swings open. "I'd rather not die asleep attached to a PASIV in a train collision."

"Such optimism," Arthur mutters as the two go into the office.

Ariadne heads straight to the computer and sits down in front of the monitor, fingers clicking away.

"Code?"

"Th906l#82Jlii00o12."

Ariadne whistles. "How did you remember that one? Didn't leave it to Arthur?"

"Roxanne bet me twenty pound I couldn't do it."

"How's your wallet feel?"

"Like it has a few pints in it."

Ariadne clicks a key with a flourish of her hand and grins. "There, into the folder."

Eames leans down and sighs. "Oh fabulous, now we have thirty subfolders."

Suddenly the lights in the room flicker and the computer screen winks off then back on again. Ariadne and Eames both put up their hands reflexively and look down at the keyboard.

"Something is going on up there," Eames says.

"We'd better hurry."

Ariadne clicks through folders quickly, excel sheets and documents, lists of names. She flies through five folders, charts of sales projections, quarterly statements.

"Wait!" Eames touches the screen. "Look, password protected there."

"And we didn't think the second one was going to happen!" Ariadne clicks on the folder and types in the password she memorized just in case.

The folder opens and there are two documents inside, one with a list of names beside numbers and an excel sheet with what appears to be bank transactions. Eames jogs out of the room and is replaced by Arthur a moment later.

"Lovely." Arthur leans over Ariadne and eyes the screen. "Twenty accounts to steal from and four to deposit. Success."

"Nice to know he likes variety."

Abruptly the house shakes and again and Arthur jerks like something has pulled him.

"Arthur?" Ariadne stands up.

"Something is –" Arthur starts then he falls over, eyes vacant.

"Eames!" Ariadne shouts, no thought to the mark upstairs who could hear. "Eames, Arthur is gone!"

Eames runs in and they both look back to the floor, no one is there.

Eames stares at Ariadne. "Where did he go?"

"He just jerked and then fell. He must have been pulled out."

They hear shouting upstairs. Daniel is yelling something about 'ambulance' and 'don't know what happened.'

"Roxanne too?"

Ariadne looks at her watch. No music is playing. The house shakes again and books fall off the shelves around them. The shaking does not stop this time and the two extractors run out of the office. They slide to a stop in the entryway to see Daniel standing at the top of the stairs.

"Who are…"

Eames pulls his gun but before any of them can say more Ariadne's head wrenches to the side and she falls to her knees like she's been slapped.

"Fuck – they're trying to –" Ariadne collapses to the floor.

Eames looks back up at Daniel who is staring at him in horror. Suddenly a shower of water cascades down from the chandelier drenching him and Eames blinks away the drips of water to a train.

Ariadne suddenly slams into Eames lap and they both jump up again in the small train cabin. Daniel is lying on his side now on the seat where he used to be sitting upright, still asleep. Roxanne sits to his left with a bullet wound in her chest and their technician lies in a heap on the floor next to another unidentified man. All of this is a backdrop to Arthur in the middle struggling with a man in a blue suit.

Ariadne grabs the man's arm and tries to pull him off of Arthur but he gets in a good shot with his elbow, smashing Ariadne in the nose. She flies back and slams into the cabin doors with a yelp. Arthur spins once and throws the man off himself, narrowly missing Eames. Eames pulls the gun from the holster in his coat and pistol whips the man across the face. He shakes his head and tries to get up again but falls.

"Give it up," Arthur snaps.

However, the man heaves himself up again, hitting away Eames' gun and reaching into his jacket. Arthur quickly grabs his gun off the floor, silencer already in place, and shoots. The man falls back, blood seeping from his mouth. Arthur and Eames turn and look at the door waiting to see if anyone comes to investigate the noise.

"I think my nose is broken," Ariadne says weakly from the floor.

"What the hell is all this?" Eames hisses, trying to flick water from his hair.

"They work for Daniel I think." Arthur points at both bodies. "Private contractors."

"We can't leave it like this!"

"Yes, we can." Ariadne stands up with a hand on her nose. "Our tech boy had a criminal record, right, and there is Roxanne. All we need to do is move Daniel to his own cabin."

The men stare at her in confusion.

When the train arrives in Chicago the local journalists are very interested to learn about a dream extraction gone wrong on the train during transit from St. Louis. An amateur extractor and her young technician attempted to gain classified client information from two security contractors. Happily for the front page printers, all four ended up dead.

"Now we need a new PASIV." Arthur crumples up the paper and throws it in a garbage can.

"You have two more, Arthur," Ariadne points out.

Eames hails a cab. "He doesn't like to get his personal ones dirty."

Arthur points at Ariadne. "You can buy it."

"Just suck it up, Arthur," Ariadne says as they climb into the cab.

* * *

Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur sit together in a large hotel room, tan chairs and tan carpet. The room is in fact a suite with a round table and chairs in the middle, desk by the wall, and two chairs on either side of a table under the window. The bed and bath have their own separate room to the right.

Arthur sits still as always to the right of the window while Ariadne forgoes her sitting to jump up and pace, restlessly checking her watch. Eames sits on the other side of the windows, his feet up on another chair, with "The Stranger" held in front of his face.

Suddenly Arthur's phone rings. Ariadne stops pacing to look at Arthur as he stands.

"Yes?"

Eames glances over the edge of his book.

"Yes, 312." Arthur clicks a button on his phone and drops his hand.

Ariadne tilts her head and Arthur nods back at her. Eames' eyes slide back down to his book.

"They're late," Ariadne says, crossing her arms.

"Ten minutes." Eames looks up again. "Mustn't be so impatient."

Ariadne just 'humphs' back at him and looks at her watch again. "Eleven."

Eames snorts.

Arthur sits down again and raps his knuckles on the table. "Enough."

A minute later they hear a soft knock at the door. Ariadne strides over to the door, checks the peep hole, and opens the door a few inches.

"Mr. Aznar?"

He nods and Ariadne steps back pulling the door open with her. Aznar and a younger man with a black briefcase in his hand walk in. Ariadne quickly closes the door behind them. Arthur stands up and extends his hand.

"Mr. Aznar, I'm Arthur," he inclines his head behind the two men, "this is Ariadne." He turns his head back and Eames closes his book. "And Eames."

Aznar motions to the other man with him. "My secretary, Pérez."

Arthur indicates the table and Arthur, Ariadne, and Aznar sit down. Eames stands up to hover behind Arthur and Pérez stays standing behind his boss.

"So," Arthur begins, "you have information for us about the mark?"

Pérez opens the briefcase and hands a blue folder to Arthur. Arthur flips it open on the table. He pulls the first photograph out of the folder and lays it on the table above the folder. Ariadne and Eames' eyes both switch to the photo from Arthur's hands then back. Arthur turns the page and Eames puts his finger down on top, stopping Arthur from turning. He pulls out two sheets, photos attached. Arthur turns the page again and Ariadne reaches out to pull a page away. The three read over their separate pages silently for a moment then they all look up as if on cue.

"Political then," Arthur says.

"Looking to make or break a career?" Eames asks.

"I will need information on her home residence as well as work," Ariadne says.

Arthur closes the folder. "Any information you have on her that is not in here we need."

Eames holds up both sheets. "Any access to these two, double affairs?"

Ariadne slides her paper back to Arthur. "And any other places she frequents."

Aznar stares at them blinking at the flurry of words. He clears his throat then sits up straight.

"Yes, political." He looks at Arthur; "And break it." He looks at Eames then back to Arthur. "We want to know any illicit activity, anything illegal she has been doing as we suspect."

Arthur opens the folder again. "Anything more specific than that?"

"We suspect she has been funneling government money away from certain programs into her own pet projects as well as her own bank account."

"Who doesn't enjoy a good thief?" Ariadne mutters.

Eames lightly kicks her chair.

"Though," Aznar continues, "if you were to find anything beyond that we would not be opposed to learning about it as well."

Arthur smiles. "I see."

Arthur snaps the folder closed then he and Ariadne stand up. Arthur holds out his hand. Aznar stands as well and they shake. Ariadne walks over to the door and opens it.

"Please send us any further information and we will contact you about payment," Arthur says as they walk out.

Aznar nods once and then the two men are gone. Ariadne closes the door then leans back against it. She stares at the two men then jumps up, twirling around once.

"Spain, yes!" She claps her hands. "Oh, it's so gorgeous there. Maybe I can build a castle! Has she ever been in one? Does she live in one? Check that. Oh, I can't wait!"

"It's not vacation," Eames points out.

Ariadne swipes the file off the table. "I can multitask."

Eames walks back over to his chair and picks up his book. "Who doesn't enjoy destroying corrupt government officials and taking in the sights at the same time?"

"Stay on task," Arthur says, pointing at Ariadne. "Not like Vancouver."

Ariadne sighs heavily. "Oh my god, I mess up one time."

"I distinctly recall seeing a clock tower looking a bit too much like Big Ben," Eames says.

Ariadne glares at him and lightly smacks his shoulder with the folder. Arthur snatches the folder out of Ariadne's hand.

Eames chuckles and puts his book on the table. "Still," He takes Arthur's hand and spins him around once. "Can work on our salsa dancing.

Arthur pulls his hand away. "No way in hell."

Ariadne takes Eames' hand instead and they tango over to the door. Eames dips her and she grabs the door handle, pushing down and pulling it open as Eames pulls her up. They flip around into the space of the doorframe and strike an ending pose, each with one leg splayed back and one hand decoratively up in the air. They look back at Arthur.

"Choreographed?"

"Don't be jealous, Arthur," Ariadne says then stands up straight, the door slipping closed again.

"Oh no, my dear." Eames straightens his jacket. "He should be because of your marvelous dancing."

Arthur drops the folder then strides over, pulls Eames into his arms and begins dancing them around the room. Arthur spins Eames, hugs him close, cha-chas once, and pulls him back. He turns Eames to the left, dancing them around the table. Then he slows them into a languid back and forth and a spin and back again. They turn around toward the door, two more cha-chas, and end with Arthur dipping Eames down effortlessly.

"Is there a song playing in your head?" Ariadne asks.

"Yes," Arthur and Eames answer together.

Arthur kisses Eames hard and pulls him back up, letting go. Arthur walks back and picks the folder up off the floor and Eames' book from the table. He clears his throat as Eames grins at him. Ariadne sighs and opens the door.

"Come on, boys," She smiles at them, "Spain awaits."

Eames laughs and follows, Arthur bringing up the rear and closing the door.

"Indeed it does," Arthur says.

The three smile in time and walk down the hall. Another day, another job, not in jail, and still at the top: the architect, the forger and the point man.


End file.
